Blood On Her Hands
by MegZ137
Summary: The Doctor leaves Amy with strict instructions to not leave the Tardis while he is out on a dangerous errand. When she doesn't obey, sparks fly. Will they reach a new understanding?


1

His voice is unusually serious, his eyes intent.

"Pond," he says. "This is _not, _repeat, not one of those times when you agree not to follow me and then immediately do so. " Amy smirks and immediately wipes it from her face, attempts a serious expression. He is not impressed. "Really. This planet is insanely dangerous, even for me. I just have to run off, nip something off a museum shelf while no one is… well, anyways, it won't take long and I'll be right back, but if you leave the TARDIS or set one human foot on the surface of this planet, things will get extremely complicated. Humans are hunted here."

"Ok, boss," Amy assures him, her tone light. "Gotcha. Don't set a toe outside the door."

"Amy." he says slowly. Something in his tone wipes the last trace of a smile from her face. _He _**_is_**_ serious,_ she realizes. "Promise me. You have to promise."

She pushes down the temptation to vamp or flirt or make fun. "I promise," she says solemnly, looking him right in those amazing eyes. "I won't go anywhere."

His eyes search hers for a moment and are apparently satisfied. "Good girl," he says, cracking a grin, and he is off at a loping run, leaving her fuming just a little at his parting tone. She looks around the TARDIS, trying to decide which room to rummage through. _While the doctor is away, the mouse will play. _She decides to begin in the study at the back of the library.

2

Amy is nose deep in a very interesting box of photos she has unearthed when the monitors begin to beep about forty minutes later. She takes a moment to carefully reassemble the lid and place the box back where she found it – no use letting him know where she's been snooping, he'll just ferret it all away somewhere else and she'll be back at ground zero - before running out to the main control room. She flips a few levers she knows to be harmless, just to feel like she's doing something, and then glances up at the central monitor. Which is when things begin to get very strange indeed.

3

The Doctor tucks the artifact into one of the many inner pockets of his tweed jacket and spins lightly on the balls of his feet – straight into the waiting eye of a rather nasty looking gun, held in the claw of an even nastier looking alien.

"Greetings, Doctor," it snarls, its tone guttural and strangely gleeful. "We have come to escort you to a meeting."

"Ah, well, thank you much for thinking of me, but I've no intention of going anywhere with you lot," the Doctor says, slowly sliding the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and readying it for stun.

"Wrong, Doctor," the alien replies. "I think you will." He holds out a small handheld data device. There, centered nicely in the video screen, is Amy.

Amy Pond.

Who is most emphatically not in the TARDIS, and is, in fact, in the company of several alien soldiers. And appears to be tied to something. And looking rather frightened.

The doctor pushes down a groan and works unusually hard to keep his default, unperturbed face on display, while a slow, quiet burn begins inside.

"Fine," he says, holding out his wrists in surrender. "Let's go."

4

Amy hears his footsteps coming down the hall. Or rather she hears him being harried, rushed, and practically dragged along, and then the Doctor appears, lifted along by two of the larger creatures, who unceremoniously open the door of the cell and toss him inside. The Doctor stumbles but lands on his feet, brushes himself off, and sends a few choice words after his departing escorts.

"Doctor! Oh thank god!"

He rounds on her sharply, arms held stiffly at his side, and for a moment she thinks that he is simply calm, before realizing what that stillness means. He examines her like… like a specimen, stalks over to her with disdain dripping from every pore.

"Amelia Pond," he announces bitterly. "Not at all where you are supposed to be."

She blushes.

"Are you injured?"

"Not really, no," she says. "Scraped and bruised. Nothing that needs attention."

He nods, turning away from her in silence, arms crossed over his chest.

"Doctor… it's not… I didn't…" A part of her is annoyed by the pathetic tone of her voice, but most of her just wants him to turn around again.

"Oh!" he says, mocking. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually ARE on the TARDIS? Wait, am I sleeping?" He pinches himself, and his voice becomes quiet. "Doesn't look like it to me."

Amy's face is burning. She opens and closes her mouth few times before she can think of what to say. "Stop that," is all she comes with in the end. "I can explain this."

He shakes his head savagely. "Not a word. If you keep quiet and do exactly as you're told – if you can manage that for a few minutes, please – I will attempt to get us out of this alive."

"But –"

"NO!" She has never seen him so livid. "We will talk about this later."

_Fine,_ Amy thinks, trying to ignore the tears springing to her eyes. _That we will. _She crosses her arms over her chest and makes herself small, waits to hear what she needs to do.

5

Execution at dawn, by fire. Not by firing squad, by fire. The aliens are a barbaric lot, with quite a grudge against humanity, humanoids, and really anything on two legs. They are also extremely talented at constructing prisons that even the doctor cannot penetrate. He spends most of the night trying one scheme after another to unlock the cell, break through the wall, signal his ship. The aliens, more aware than most of timelord capabilities, have foreseen his every move. The cell is constructed entirely of wood, the prison is shielded in a way that prevents the TARDIS from getting through. He tells her that only in the open air can they get away. They will have one chance.

In the morning they come to take them away, dragging them along to the coliseum where they will be lit up for all to see. The Doctor and his human, brought low.

At the execution grounds she really thinks they are done for, has a moment of despair. Back to back, tied against the pole with the explosives piled around their feet, the Doctor waits until the last possible minute, attempting to talk their way out of this by any means necessary – intimidating, cajoling, flattering. Nothing works. Finally, as the guards come towards them with lit torches, the Doctor somehow frees a hand and shoots a pulse from something from his pocket that Amy can't quite make out.

And it works - it does. But not entirely as expected. As the TARDIS appears and they are hurled inside, an explosion starts at the perimeter of the execution area, and they both see several of the guards get caught in it. Their last view as the TARDIS spirits them away is of several aliens, writhing on the floor of the coliseum, burning alive. The smell – the smell is awful, and Amy knows it will stay with her for ages.

They rematerialize in the command room of the TARDIS.

"How did you do that?" she asks, reeling.

"No time to explain," the Doctor says, his eyes shocked. He types quickly on the computer and adjusts various levers and dials. "Must get moving, right now. Here, hold this." He points her to a purple knob, and she does as he asks. Soon there is the familiar sound of the TARDIS taking flight, and they are gone. Safe at last.

6

Once they are sure of no pursuit, he stalks off to god knows where, and Amy is left to wander the command deck, unsure of what to do. She wanders to the library, randomly touching and dusting a few volumes here and there, and finally flops down in front of the fireplace and hugs her knees, sure he will find her. He does soon enough. She stands and they stare at each other for a few beats.

"So," he says, "It appears we need to chat." No warmth. He is a stranger.

Amy sits down heavily in one of the library chairs, wanting to placate him, but her thoughts are garbled and it emerges a mess. "Doctor, I don't know what to say. I didn't leave! I mean I did, obviously I did, but I didn't really. It was... it's complicated."

The Doctor hears the confusion as untruth. He rubs the bridge of his nose, trying hard to compose himself, but inside he is still listening to the howls of those guards, and his patience is thin. _She is lying? To him? _

"Amy, Amy, Amy," he says, voice rising in pitch in spite of himself. "Did you see that? I killed three guards. Roasted them alive. All because you couldn't stay put."

"But Doctor, I…"

"No," he says, commanding. "You broke your promise. You swore to me, and as soon as I left you sauntered out of here and got into trouble. Just like always." He bends down over the front of her chair, hands on her arm rests, pinning her in. "Did you ever intend to keep your word? Was this a game to you?"

Amy Pond, queen of the comeback, just gapes. "I'm sorry," she sputters. "I didn't want to."

He doesn't hear, pushes himself up off of her chair and paces towards the fireplace. "You didn't want to. You didn't mean to. You just wanted to see what was out there." He has begun to shout, in spite of himself, the blood pounding in his ears. "Three living creatures died, Amelia. Their blood is on your hands! Their death is _your_ fault, Amy. Yours."

Amy shoots out of her chair, stomach roiling. He is so wrong, and yet he is right too. They _are_ dead because of her, because she was stupid. She can almost see it on her hands. She looks around wildly, edges towards the door.

"Have you utterly nothing to say to me?" he says, exasperated.

She takes a deep breath. As always, her fear turns to anger in the blink of an eye. "Do you really think I would just go lollygagging off from here after the warning you gave me this morning? DO YOU REALLY?"

"I. Didn't. Leave. The. TARDIS." She is all but shouting herself, now. He blinks at her, a few cracks of confusion beginning to penetrate his rage. "Which you might be able to understand if you would ever simmer down and let me speak!"

And with that, courage gone, she flees. She silently begs the TARDIS to show her to a bathroom, and she almost makes it to the toilet before the retching began. Blood, invisible blood, all over her hands.

7

Ten minutes later, she hears the knock. A quiet knock. Gentle.

"Amy," the Doctor says. "Open the door."

"Go away, Doctor," she says quietly. She doesn't have the strength right now to deal with him.

She can hear as well as feel his forehead thump quietly against the door as he leans in. She imagines his eyes closed, can picture him standing there, listening.

"Please," he says.

She eases herself up from the floor, wipes her face one final time with the towel, splashes a little water around, and takes a deep breath. Then she heads to the door, opens it. Edges by him without eye contact; he lets her. She wanders to her room, aware he is behind her, and flops down on the bed, face to the wall. His weight on the bed a moment later tells her he has sat down beside her.

"Pond," he says quietly. "It seems possible that I have been an unremitting and utter ass." In spite of herself, she snorts. "Tell me what happened," he says.

And so she does. How they used his voice. And maybe a perception filter, because it looked like him too. How he staggered up bleeding and calling for her help, collapsed outside the doors unable to open them. There were strange readings on the monitors. She didn't know what they meant or what to do.

"And then you just fell down. You were having convulsions. I thought you were dying!" She swallowed. "You called to me, for help."

"And you opened the door," he says. Gentle now.

"And I opened the door."

"And they took you," he says.

"Yes."

In spite of herself, a sob sneaks out and she shakes with the effort to hold it back. "I'm a right idiot. I shouldn't have fallen for it. But I had to help you."

And then she is crying, and in a moment he has scooped her up onto his lap to bury her face in his scratchy tweed, his hand on her hair, murmuring over and over, "I'm sorry, Amy. I'm so sorry."

When she sleeps, finally, wrung out like a rag, he sits for a long time in her room, legs stretched out in front of him, his face in his hands. Hating himself. The amazing Time Lord, slayer of innocents and destroyer of little girls. He hopes she will forgive him, but he isn't sure he can forgive himself.

8

Later, the next day, he sits her down and gently explains a few things. Like how the TARDIS will always open for him, tools or not, perception filter or no – he and the TARDIS are bound on a quantum and cellular level and it is impossible for the TARDIS not to recognize him, conscious or unconscious, all in one piece or in a thousand. Amy hadn't known. He has never told her. He has never told her so many things, just assumed she already has the knowledge to back up the impressive amount of self-confidence she brings to their day to day lives.

This changes now, he tells them both. He teaches her what button to push on the console to scan for perception filters outside the door. He explains some of the read outs and shows her the buttons or words to lock the console down and release it. He explains how to call him when he is off the box, and how to get the TARDIS to tell her where he is.

Amy, unusually serious, listens and learns all she can. Things are not quite right between them, but they are improving. He will teach her more. He will teach her everything she needs to know.

"Doctor," she says, "you can stop looking at me all mopey-eyed and concerned. I can take a dressing down. Even from a scary Time Lord. Really, my compliments. I can see why armies quake an' all that." She even grins a little.

"Amy," he sighs. "I have such darkness in me. I never wanted you to see it."

And suddenly she is moving across the deck to him, folding him into her arms. "I see you, Doctor," she whispers. And he is amazed, utterly amazed, at this person, this strange and wonderful, mad, mad girl who has already forgiven him.

That night they open the door, extend an atmosphere bubble, and stare out at a nebula on the edges of inhabitable space. They sit and talk long into the night, and he tells her about some of the darkness and the burdens he carries. The people he has lost, the harms he has done, the world he destroyed. She is quiet, looking into him with those eyes as still and deep as the moon, her hand in his. When he finishes, her head is leaning against his shoulder, her feet swinging out into the void.

"Well, Doctor," she says, her voice soft, "that's more than any one person should have to hold all alone." He nods. She reaches out and strokes his cheek, then takes his hand when he reaches for her and presses it against her heart. "I'll help you carry it. Just you and me."

And together, they watch the stars wink and burn, in the empty silence of space.


End file.
